


Starry-Eyed Lockie

by GracieTeenBakerSt



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Gen, My First Work in This Fandom, Original Character(s), Post Episode: s07e05 The Angels Take Manhattan, Post Reichenbach, Pre Episode: s07e14 The Name Of The Doctor, Set in October 2012, Sherlock Holmes: Time Lord, Sherlock Series 2 Spoilers, Time Travel, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 15:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieTeenBakerSt/pseuds/GracieTeenBakerSt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Struggling to pay for her mortgage after her flatmate left to live with her fiancé, the private, humble singleton, Olivia-May Barker, reluctantly puts up an advertisement for a lodger in the local newspaper and online, hoping for at least a quiet, decent individual that kept out of her way. However, as she waits for a response, she did not expect a handsome, curious stranger to whisk her away into a new world of experiments, danger and adventure, for which changed her forever. </p>
<p>Time Lord Sherlock AU, OC. No Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Adjustment

It had been a long, tiresome week since Olivia had finally made the decision to post the lodger vacancy. The verdict itself took her a lot of stressful time to resolve the issue. Not that she felt ashamed by requiring extra income, she couldn’t exactly help her financial situation and it would be nice to have a little company during the day without venturing outside looking for it, yet she hated any drastic change to her life. Despite all that, once everything was settled she became a heart of stone, barely portraying mild emotions within her facial expressions. For instance, when she moved up from further education College to University to study Writing and TV Media in depth, taking that large step of the landscape change from the quiet, rolling hills and grassy meadows of the West Country to the chaotic, polluted streets of Kingston in London, miles away from the comforting smells of the distant salt of the Bristol Channel and the overpowering scent of the farming countryside, she tried to keep a straight face for her family. But inside, it nearly killed her.

It had been quite emotional for her to move away from her normal, yet quirky family life with her over-protective mum, comical dad and her constantly annoying older and younger siblings, Charlotte and Stuart, but she knew deep down that coming to capital city was the right move for her. She quickly developed a new routine to follow in her normal life, learning new, life-changing skills and making new friends along the way. London slowly turned into her new home, taking up a large part of her life as she got friendly with the residents in the neighbourhood, became aware of every street name within a ten mile radius, applied for a membership at the nearest gym around the corner and started recommending local takeaway and restaurants to her family whenever they visited. Soon, she found herself rather acquainted to the city setting and after she gracefully completed her degree with flying colours, Olivia took the leap to stay put to pursue her career in writing. 

The most recent change for the shy, sensible girl was when her previous flatmate, Kimberley, who was also her close friend of hers since College, left to move in with her posh, Londoner fiancé, Henry, a month ago. Olivia knew it would come eventually, considering the couple had dated most of the time through University and it had been nearly a year since the couple had got engaged on (barf!) Valentine’s Day, the corniest, most cliched date of the entire year, in a candlelight restaurant of sorts. However it was still a drastic shock to her, when her tired, rumpled self was woken up by her giggling, over-excited wreck of a mate once she arrived back at nearly two o’clock the next morning, which she wasn't exactly happy about. 

She wasn't a fan of the fourteenth day of February. On those days, Olivia would hide away from the sentimental world, trying to keep her day as normal and sanest as possible like any other without the need to cringe with disgust from overly affectionate couples in the street or to eventually switch the television off after discovering that only soppy movies about a declaration of love from the main character to that special person are on. After some undeletable experiences, she learnt to hurriedly arrive from her day shift at the small, eccentric bookshop a couple of streets away she worked for, she would grab a ready meal from the fridge, heat it up in the microwave whilst unearthing a large tub of mouth-watering ice cream from the freezer and then stalk up to her den of a room with the items in hand, to delve into a good, imaginative book to take her thoughts away from reality.

Olivia had never been the romantic type. On no occasion, would she put herself out there into the dating world, applying make-up to her freckly face or straighten her mass of auburn, brunette curls to make herself seem more attractive and lie to an innocent stranger in the bar to appear flirtatious or fascinating. Not even when she was a teenager did she experiment in emotive contact. She enjoyed being single and she didn't want to adjust that. Plus, she never found it appealing to stick her tongue down someone’s throat. Olivia was just not interested. Kimberly never truly believed her, a discussion came that up repeatedly, and especially in the week that had just past, as her friend came back a couple of times to the half-empty apartment, today being the last, collecting a few of her belongings that she had left behind from the move. 

“How have you been?” Kimberly delicately asked her busy pal, who was currently knelt on the hard, laminate floor, sorting out Kimberly’s DVDs from her own and storing them into a cardboard box whilst Kim herself stood uncomfortably watching behind her, “Anything remarkable happened since the last time I saw you?”

“Not really,” remarked Olivia quite distractedly, “You know how it is around here. You’re lucky if you get mugged (!)” Kimberly tried not to laugh, as she slightly shook her head, her long, blonde waves quivering at her movement, understanding that where she used to live was indeed very uneventful.

“You know what I mean, dopey. There must be a fella that’s caught your eye by now… or is it girls you’re into?”

“Neither,” she explained firmly as she, after careful observation, checked one last time that only her films were left on her plain shelf and started to fold the lids down of the near full container, “You know I’ve never been attentive in that part of life, Kim. Why bring it up all of a sudden, this week of all weeks?”

“I’m just worried about you,” sighed Kim with obvious disappointment, “I’ve left now and I don’t want you to end up alone with only twenty-five cats to keep you company in the near or distant future.”

“I won’t be alone. Trust me,” Olivia cunningly ended the conversation with a simple look, getting up from the cluttered floor and passing her concerned friend her boxed up things persuasively as she went. She began her short walk to the door to the exiting stairs of the small flat before she sharply turned, her hands on her hips, “Is there anything else that you came for?”

“Yes, some of my course books are still upstairs.”

After what seemed a lifetime of trudging up and the stairs, laden with multiple packages containing Psychology textbooks, Case studies and portfolios from the time of her ex-flatmate’s degree, bracing herself every time they stepped into the harsh winds of the Autumn weather outside, silently blinking back the tears as they brought the files to Kim’s small, city car, they had a well-earned break of a warm drink and biscuits, chatting away as they sipped cautiously from their steaming mugs on the dark leather sofa in the cosy, open living room. Nothing really interesting as a topic came up during the discussion, just things about the telly and local gossip. They were just content with each other’s company, which was becoming increasingly rare for the pair of them to enjoy as they moved on with their lives. 

Slowly the darkness of night crept over the horizon, as it dawned on Kim that she had other plans to attend, glancing at her watch when she finished her tea.

“Oh, look at the time,” she said with surprise, easing herself from the comfortable sofa to take her cup to the kitchen behind her, whilst Olivia also leapt up, glancing out the window at the red, setting sun, “I’m afraid I have to leave you, Libby. I’m meeting up with Henry’s parents tonight to sort out the arrangements of the wedding. I have the venue booked, lovely place, but I haven’t got through half the stuff yet. And I still haven’t organised when we are to shop for our dresses, I must ask Tiffany, Henry’s mum, if she recommends anyone.”

Olivia looked at her confused, as the words her friend had spoken sluggishly went through her mind, trying to figure out what Kim meant. “What do you mean, “Our”?”

Her friend did a double take, “Have I told you yet? Libby, I want you to be my Maid of Honour!”

“Y-your Maid of Honour?” 

“Yes! Do you accept?” After a long tension-filled pause, teasing her anxious friend, Libby smiled, ran over to her taller friend and hugged her tightly out of excitement.

“Of course,” she laughed in Kim’s shoulder, the news slowly sinking in, “but I thought I just be a bridesmaid or something. Aren’t family members supposed to have that role?” They broke apart, giddy from the buzz.

“No, not really,” Kimberly grinned reassuringly, “You know I have no sisters and I don’t really want Henry’s cousin, who I barely know, to support me through the wedding. Not only that, it would be a great opportunity for you to mingle, possibly meet someone.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at the last statement, the matchmaker trait clearly showing through Kim’s expression, a slight displeasure kicking in. “Of course…”

“I joke, obviously. However, though, I really must go.”

“Okay then, bye” Libby uttered with a large, fake smile as she hugged her best friend slightly desperately, not wanting to be on her own after such a social day, as she realised that Kimberly knew how she was feeling. Soon, Kim knelt down to pick up the last container from the wooden floor, whilst Olivia strolled over to the open kitchen, dumping the mugs on the side and switching the kettle with the flick of her finger. “Want another cuppa before you go?”

“No thanks,” smiled Kim sadly, buckling under the pressure of the weight of the box and quickly glancing at the abstract clock on the painted brick wall, “Got to be there in just over half an hour and you know what the London traffic is like.” 

“I know,” she nodded with understanding, getting down the coffee jar from the small kitchen cupboard. Kimberly headed for the door, bearing to leave the two-storey flat until a minor thought crossed her mind. She unsteadily trotted back in her office heeled boots, her jacket wrinkling at the sudden movement. 

“Have you got anything back from your advert?”

Olivia hesitated in pouring the cold milk into her steaming mug, swiftly glancing up to the kitchen window.

“No. Not Yet.”

She carefully contemplated this, soon becoming lost in her own thoughts. After her continuous watch through the pane of glass window did she realise that Kim had left the flat, seeing her get into the car, placing the box on the passenger car seat and driving off into the starry night. 

Libby paused from drinking her coffee, as she looked more closely at the stars. She had always been fascinated by them, the wonder of how the clustered, burning balls of plasma and gas could look so beautiful in the dark, indigo sky, twinkling from afar. Ever since she was a child, she gazed upon them, going outside in the garden from dusk whenever she could. Libby could feel the urge now to take that step. And she couldn’t resist, using the excuse of taking out the rubbish for the bins as her chance. Grabbing her keys from the coffee table along the way, she dragged the full, heavy bin-liners down the steep stairs, unlocked the door and stepped out of her terraced building into the cold, viewing the heavens.

Everything seemed as ordinary as a London town could ever be; rows of 1950’s red brick and painted houses and shops mainly lining the modern territorial, bustling city landscape. Olivia was situated over a murky, paint-peeling laundrette that she rented out to an old, almost-retired business couple from the local area, as she now part owned the whole building, which was constantly reminded when a hefty mortgage came in the post each month. There was a range of different stores down her old road; however she nicknamed it ‘Takeaway Street’, after she soon discovered when she first moved in with a large pile of junk mail and food leaflets that nearly blocked the opening of the door.

A cloudless night glisten from above, the moon shone extra brightly, its silver light filling the shadows that the artificial yellow streetlamps couldn’t reach, whilst car headlights dotted the roads like Christmas fairy lights in the winter. The gale winds from earlier in the afternoon had now come to pass, through however the breeze was still going strong, taking red and gold, crumbling leaves from the sleeping, yellow trees in its path. She couldn’t help the smile creep up slowly on her face as the diamond lights in the sky sparkled back her, reassuring her of her troubles. Olivia lightly chuckled as she placed the large black bags onto the wide pavement outside her dark blur door. 

Nothing could ruin this moment, as she leant against a nearby, metal lamppost, saving the image in her mind, untainted for her to view whenever she felt like. Wonder of what was beyond the Earth’s atmosphere brushed her worries gently aside, the giddiness of her childhood seeping through her tightly clamped heart.

However her amusement was abruptedly ended when the wind out of nowhere picked up in speed and became ever more harsh once more, raising her hands to cover her eyes from the gale’s invisible glare. Peculiarly, a weird wheezing sound could be heard, almost mechanical. Libby shuddered deeply in more ways than one, as tried to view where the strange sound was coming from through her thin, delicate fingers, the beat of a drumming thud becoming increasing thunderous, with no luck. Her crimson-brown hair kept flicking into her face and she soon began to wish that she had brought down a jacket as she felt frozen from the weather’s force. A blurred, faint white light flickered on and off down the street, the source of its cause unknown as the autumn chill began to sting her scarlet-rimmed eyes, affecting her vision even more.  
Then suddenly, everything stopped.

She removed her arms from defending her now red face, surveying cautiously from her pained, fluttering sea green eyes in the hope for answers to be unveiled before her. Not much enlightened her unfortunately for what had unexplainably happened, everything looked abnormally normal. It was now strangely quiet down her road, hardly any moving vehicles driving through the murky streets of Southern London in sight, the pedestrians that did walk by were pretty occupied with themselves, their minds clearly elsewhere, whilst the traffic noise had dimmed, only hearing the sound of the odd honk of an annoyed cab motorist in the far distance, which weirdly made Olivia feel a small shade of unease and apprehension. 

This was unusual for her, for she thrived the dark and its mysteries, a girl who always wanted to explore in some form or another. Even if it was only in her vivid imagination. Unexpectedly, she felt shivery with shock, a sound of a small foot shuffle could be heard from the alleyway behind her that went alongside the launderette for the deliverymen. A quick glance over her shoulder explained to her that nothing could be seen except the shadows. Olivia told her over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived mind not to be silly, shaking herself from the horrid feeling that tightly squeezed her stomach.

Yet as she spun back round, observing the lane for any other invisible, imaginary, disgusting monsters from the gloomy side streets, a sensation of a pair of unseen eyes became aware to her, watching like a daunting ghost, it’s vision boring into the back of her skull. Libby couldn’t move, stuck to the spot, hands held out cumbersomely to the side. Impossible, competing thoughts ran rapidly through her mind, unsure as to what she was undergoing. Anything could happen to her, like in the horror films and in her crime books that she enjoyed reading. For all she knew, a ‘Psycho’ re-enactment could suddenly happen, ruby red blood oozing onto the tarmac from her stabbed, crushed chest as it began to rain heavily from the storm of sorrow and melancholy, reaching the headlines of many future newspapers to come. 

She didn’t dare even flinch or even lightly breathe, unsure of what consequences that she had reflected already, would come to her from her thoughtless, sudden movement. A nauseating tingling echoed in her stomach, making her feel even more startled, her eyes widening with fear. Soon she couldn’t stand it. Olivia slowly turned her head; the only giveaway of her shift in position was the slight bounce in her curls, than out of a sudden surge of courage, Libby span on the spot to the right of her, viewing the south end of the lamp lit road.

No one. 

She felt unbelievably stupid, raising a unsteady hand to her face, shaking her head with embarrassment for her fright of a large gust of wind.

“How could I be so daft?” Olivia mumbled to the tarmacked pavement whilst pacing back and forth, her cheeks deepening to a shadier rouge, “Getting myself worked up. Nothing ever occurs here or to me. Nothing. Not… a dickey bird…”

Taking a great, intense breath, she pinched her pale arm, hoping it was all her imagination going wild and that she was actually all safe and sound it her nice, cosy bed. She didn’t wake up, evidently, for she was already fully-conscious. Outside in the freezing cold street, with a now stinging shoulder, agitating her with pain for her irrational behaviour.

“Not a dream then,” she understood.

Laughing it off didn’t work, the awkwardness still lingered in the air, even though no one had witnessed her idiotic actions. With a hand in her waves as she tried to reassure and compose herself, Libby swiftly turned to the opened door of her sanctuary and stumbled inside towards the light. Hurriedly, she closed the door and locked it without a second thought. She clambered up through to the flat then bound upstairs to bed, deciding to skip dinner and have a big breakfast in the morning instead, only taking her now cold coffee and a magazine up with her. She needed a distraction from her scare and this was the best cure. Right then, she had to concentrate on getting her life back to a new normal, as living on her own was the situation she was now forced into and looking like her new future, due to the lack of replies from her week old advert.  
Olivia did not notice the ping of her email alert that flashed unobtrusively across the screen of her phone.


	2. Chapter 2: Four Knocks

Daylight breezed bleakly through the tiny crack of the opaque cream blind of her bedroom loft window, turning the speckled, floating dust enchanted and golden as it drifted into the beam of sunlight. A slight creak echoed through the shaded rooms of the unstirred apartment. The cause of this jangle came from Libby herself as she shuffled under the thick duvet of her small, rumpled bed, getting more comfortable. Suddenly her smartphone buzzed, an alert of a new urgent email flitting across the screen. Yet she slept on, undisturbed.

The rather decorative room Olivia was gently snoring and dreaming of magical wonders in, was rather more calming than the rest of the flat, simpler without a vast amount of embellished ornaments scattered around on a variety of shelves and table tops, topped off with clashing patterns, colours and mismatched furniture like it was in the open living room.

Dark, Royal Blue gracefully emitted from the smooth, painted walls like the last embers of a setting sun. The soft, cream carpet rug stood out from the surrounding wooden floorboards, whilst a large Oak wardrobe stood erect, looking grand and tall, giving the room an aura of mystery as to what lurked behind the polished doors (Narnia, perhaps?). Floral, blossom fairy lights dangled across the simple, metallic wall mirror, one of the few feminist things that Olivia owned.

An elegant, curved white desk with a matching ebony, padded chair were stationed under the only the small, wall window, cluttered with papers of fictional work and ideas from Libby's imaginative mind. Because of the modest layout, she felt more at home here. Whenever she came up with a snippet of an idea to put in a story or a new plot, if she was free, she clambered straight up to her little, cosy den and quickly jot her thoughts and notions down; even if they were silly, little things like a character's dislike or a part of their complicated personality.

The black, modern phone lying on her small, oak bedside table beeped again, vibrating and shuffling across the smooth surface, its loose form of dancing to the current, catchy music emitting from it.

"Don't do love, don't do friends. I'm only after success. Don't need a relationship; I'll never soften my grip…"

Libby groaned loudly at the pulsing sound, distressed from the rude awakening of her sweet, blissed slumber. She aggressively turned and faced away from the noise, grasping her plump pillow, using it to cover her head as an attempt to block out the hum of Marina and The Diamonds, not willing to speak to whoever wanted to call her at eight o'clock in the morning on her only day off in the week.

"I know exactly what I want and who I want to be. I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine…"

After a minute of failing to zone the regrettably catchy ringtone out from her mind, Olivia gave up from trying to ignore the caller who she now demoted to arch-enemy; she twisted awkwardly to her right, pulling her caught arm from under her, reaching angrily for the bouncing mobile to answer the call before it clattered to the floor.

"Oh. Oh No! Oh No! Oh No! O-" Bleep!

"Hello?" responded Libby croakily with a fake smile and an animated, friendly voice, tightly holding the device from under the covers and suppressing the urge to shout abuse to the receiver through the phone line.

"It's Anthea, dear. Sorry if I've disturbed you at such an early hour," the voice extravagantly replied from the phone speaker. Anthea Moseley was the owner of the book shop, an old, eccentric woman who loved everything to be in order and to present her stock as neat and precise as possible, with not a speck of dust in sight.

As Libby at that time was one of three employees in the store, the other being the morning cleaner and the girl on the opposite shift Libby never saw, whenever there were very little customers, she would have to go around the store, checking everything was in place and up to her boss's standards. If it wasn't, Anthea would then be in one of her strict, tight lipped moods, her mouth set in a hard line out of disappointment. It would never good to be on the wrong side of Anthea. But most of the time, she was fine and dandy, a laugh to be during a small tea break at the end of the day.

Olivia half laughed away from the microphone at the realisation of the possibility of work that day, anger bubbling steadily as a headache awoke through her sleep-deprived mind, "but it is a matter of urgency I need to sort before I can open up for business today. There's a confirmation I have to send."

"Right," she urgently responded, running a hand through her hair as she tumbled to the ground to reach for her clothes-covered chair for her work wear, cursing and fuming silently in her thoughts whilst she shrugged the mobile handset between her chin and shoulder to continue talking, "Do you need me to come down to help you out or something now? I can get to you within half an hour-"

"No, no, no, Libby dear. I'm fine. It's about tomorrow and the new filled of position of the job vacancy." Libby breathed out a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress with relief.

"Have you managed to find someone yet then?"

"Yes. Such a lovely chap. Warren I think his name his. If it's okay with you, I need you to supervise him and teach him some of the trade on Monday. I would do it myself, but one of our suppliers has emailed me about a scheduled meeting we arranged from a while back, which I had completely forgotten about, and I can't possibly miss it."

"Oh yeah, sure. Love to. Just the basic running of the shop and the till?"

"And the filing system. Everything I taught you on your first day."

"Remember it all, loud and clear." In her mind, she cussed for she didn't.

"Good. Sorry for the inconvenience, but I wouldn't have asked you if I could be in two places at once."

"I don't mind. A little extra responsibility wouldn't hurt me," Olivia uttered, grinding her teeth with a false grin, even though she knew that her employer couldn't see her.

"That's the ticket. So I'll see you at eight thirty sharp tomorrow all prepped and prepared?"

"Absolutely," she breathed tiredly.

"Bye, dear. I won't intrude you any longer."

"Okay. Bye."

The last word echoed around her room, mirroring her views about the recent events that her slow, sleepy brain was processing. She had an extra workload to do, probably without overtime payment or bonuses. Libby sighed annoying.

'Well my day's ruined and it's not even half eight yet,' she thought sarcastically.

Olivia gently placed her phone back on the side in its original place, before collapsing back onto the covers. She so desperately wanted shut-eye for at least another two hours, to curl up under the sheet and huddle in its warmth. However, she felt too far awake. And she was thirsty for her first cuppa of the morning. So she slowly dragged herself from her soft, comforting bed and plodded downstairs, heading for the kettle in the kitchen. As she leisurely treaded down, Libby began to recall last night's events and why she was so grouchy.

The urge, the stars, the wind, the noise… the shadows.

She remembered how scared she was, yet curious for the adventure, like a character out of a fictional story from the dark pages of a book. How it all felt strange, but excited. Olivia shook her head, desperate to set herself for a new day to sort her stuff around the flat so it didn't look so empty and buy the groceries to survive for the rest of the week. Soon, the flooring changed from the soft, bouncy carpet to the chilled, smooth laminate, alerting her from her thoughts that she had arrived in the lounge.

As she went to grab a large mug from the open cupboard and fetch the espresso coffee jar next to it, Libby heard a mechanical ping from next to the sofa. She turned around to face in that direction, to see the laptop screen locked with a message appearing in the bottom right corner.

'The battery must be dying; I'll charge it up in a minute.'

She took her time stirring the coffee powder into the darkening black, steaming liquid, doing her usual morning pastime of staring out the sunlit street below. It looked like normal. Zero interesting things had seemed to have happened last night; the same black taxi cabs chugging down the road with the hum of pre-lunch drivers, old biddies lumbering along to get their morning paper and a pint of milk for their teas, whilst joggers and dog walkers travelled their traditional route. Nothing had changed.

'Either last night was really stressful and disorientating, or it was a very vivid dream,' Olivia half smiled at the reassurance, sipping her well-needed strong cuppa.

The next item on her agenda was to plonk herself on the large sofa and catch up with the news and weather, scrolling through the channels to skip the annoying, exaggerated advert about cleaning products and dog food. However to her annoyance, the laptop wouldn't stop buzzing. It was like a baby, screaming at her saying, "Notice me, notice me. I need attention! I need ATTENTION!"

After five minutes of constant beeping, Libby gave in trying to listen about how the government were reassessing their political, economic recession status, thumped her half-filled china cup down and took the laptop to her lap, sighing at the contraption's impatience. On her discovery, she realised that the laptop was plugged in and in fact she had a reply to an email she had sent.

'How odd. I don't remember sending the email in the first place.'

When Olivia clicked the conversation and opened up fully on her screen, her eyes grew wide with shock. She was silent as panic had started to set in; the only sounds resonating around the open-planned room were the weirdly distorted voices from the television speakers.

"Shit," she uttered out loud, closing the computer with a slam, then running about, picking cushions, blankets, books and loose DVDs off the floor, shrugging her dressing gown tighter around her with anticipation, "I have an applicant for the lodger coming here in ten minutes."

The next few minutes were a blur of tidying the room, making sure everything was in its rightful spot, checking that the floor, furniture and the kitchen table tops were spotless enough to have guests over without any insulting remarks on cleanliness. Clumsily, she chugged back her bitter coffee, her eyes watering at its sour taste then chucked it in the sink without too much damage to the handle or the thin layer of pottery paint.

Once the whole bottom part of the flat room looked neat and welcoming, she quickly marched over toward the stair door and took in her appearance in the long, tall wall mirror, internally screaming at the sight. She was still in large, lumpy night clothes with bed hair, bags under the eyes from sleep.

Libby promptly pounded up the stairs loudly, yanking back her wardrobe doors to make a rash grab for a simple, near casual stripped shirt and jeans, running a hand through the underwear drawer for the first bra and knickers she could pick up. The bell rang as she was multi-tasking, awkwardly buttoning up her blouse with one hand and brushing her reddish-brown curls with the other.

"I'm coming," Olivia shouted down the stairs, hoping the stranger at the door could hear, "Just hang on a sec."

In response, the bell rang again, long, shrill and firm. She groaned with exasperation, sprinting down the two sets of stairs, sweeping her lengthy hair back behind her shoulders before she turned the handle of door and pulled it open towards her with a hand on her face.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry that I'm late, but I completely forgot our arrangem-"

Libby stopped abruptly when her eyes finally caught the sight of the person who shuffled uncomfortably on the small step off the tarmac of the pavement.

The guy gave her an expression of both curiosity and confusion as to what she was saying, gripping tightly onto his parcel and the clipboard closer to his florescent orange clad chest that covered his red, smart uniform. It was only the local postman.

"I, um, am here to deliver a package to a Miss Barker?" the small, stout man asked her timidly. Olivia sighed, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding and then giving the bloke a small smile.

"Er, yes, that's me," she said in the nicest voice she could muster. The postman shyly dropped his gaze as he reluctantly imparted the mail from his grasp to give to her. Once she held it securely in her hands, he loosened his grip on the documents and extended it towards her direction, taking out the pen from his pocket.

"Can you also sign this please?"

She nodded as an answer and accepted the items, gently scrawling her signature on the dotted line of the distribution form.

"Thank you," she stated kindly to the man, handing the equipment back to him. They both forcefully smiled, before he departed and Olivia closed the door to the warm, summery street.

For a few seconds (yet to her, it appeared to be like a lifetime), she leant against the cream, cold wall, gasping steadily and slowly to reduce her rising anxiety of a seeming non-existent guest's arrival. When she felt a little less giddy, she began to head up to her flat to have a desperately desired piece of toast to calm her stomach. As her right foot touched the first of many steps however, she heard the sound of four knocks coming from the door. Thinking that it was the postman again, she carefully turned in the narrow, short corridor and heavily unlocked the scarlet door.

"Hello?"

In front of her confidently stood a seemingly young, tall man with dark, brunette, curly hair cropped freely across his face, contrasting harshly with his white, extremely pale skin, wrapped snugly in his leather jacket and grey hoodie, his hands buried in his navy, denim pockets. His most compelling feature were his eyes, a swirl of grey, blue, green and gold, always changing its pattern when he slightly shifted his stance. He paused, gathering his thoughts, before he spoke in his deep, baritone voice.

"Hi, I'm the applicant who responded to the lodger vacancy you posted a few days ago?"

Realising that her mouth was opened in slight astonishment, Libby quickly closed it, holding out a hand for him to shake as a belated welcome.

"Y-yes, you've come to the right place," she assured him, beaming as she became more comfortable in his presence, providing her a good first impression of him, "I'm Olivia-May Barker, though I'm more known as Libby. Please, come in."

Olivia stepped back, letting the gentleman stride through into the hall, before closing the bulky door once more on the now extra busy, bustling street. As she walked around him and led them to the lower section of the flat, she cautiously turned her head towards him.

"I'm sorry if it's a mess. I overslept this morning and nearly forgot about it, which I must admit is not like me," she exclaimed casually, setting him on the sofa then walking to the kitchen for the beverage cupboard. Before he could respond, Libby willingly proceeded with the host's requirements.

"What would like to drink Mr-? Please excuse me, but what was your name again?"

He span squeakily in his seat, chuckling lightly at her question and her befuddled expression, which in turn made the situation less difficult and more relaxed.

"It's okay, don't worry," he foresaid in a friendly manner, "The name is William Scott Lock. Can I have coffee, black, two sugars?"


End file.
